For a reluctant billionaire, friends are the biggest treasure

The two huge buses lumbered out of the leafy residential neighborhood in Elizabeth and, under police escort, headed for the New Jersey Turnpike. In less than two hours, they rolled through the streets of New York's East Side, many of which had been closed by police because of the visit of President George Bush to the United Nations.

The passengers were ushered out of the buses and through the shiny marble lobby of the Mutual of America building on Park Avenue, then whisked upstairs to the huge 35th floor conference room where they met, among others, New York City Police Commissioner Ray Kelly -- a man who was having a busy day dealing with the world.

These men and women, most in their 70s, some older, were there to celebrate the launch of a book, the biography of their old friend, Charles Feeney.

The book, "The Billionaire Who Wasn't" by Irish journalist Colon O'Clery, described how Feeney, a poor kid from Elizabeth, made billions by starting the Duty Free Shops and gave most of it away anonymously.

To his chagrin, Feeney's wealth was revealed by Forbes Magazine in 1988 and his philanthropy detailed here and in the New York Times a decade later.

But Feeney always remembered his origins and he made his old friends from Elizabeth feel like the true VIPs of the evening.

"Because they are all Charlie's friends, and he wanted them here today," said one of the event's organizers, Arlene Feeney Fitzpatrick of Sea Girt. She is Charles "Chuck" Feeney's baby sister.

So they were -- Charlie Feeney's friends, many still from Elizabeth, where he grew up.

"I am here because I love Charlie Feeney and I have for more than 60 years," says Mary Jones Seery of North Carolina. She carried with her three autographed copies of the book that was the reason for the party way above Park Avenue.

There was Bob Cogan of Medford, his old classmate, who helped Feeney organize the 50th annual reunion of St. Mary's of the Assumption High School class of 1948 -- the celebration Feeney took to Limerick and housed in his Castletroy Hotel in 1998. Feeney organized another reunion again a few years later.

"He still keeps in touch with us," says Cogan. In the book, Cogan is quoted as expressing shock when Forbes Magazine revealed in 1988 that his old high school pal was the 23rd-wealthiest man in the United States.

"We were flabbergasted. We never knew what the hell he did. He could have been in the CIA. He wouldn't tell. Maybe he didn't want anyone to think he was better than us. And here's a guy coming out of nowhere and up there with the Rockefellers."

Because Charles Feeney of Elizabeth has four gifts. He knows how to make money, and how to keep secrets--most of his life, until now, was a collection of secrets. He knows how to give money away.

And he loves his friends the way he loves his family.

"He never forgot us, no matter how successful he was, no matter how unsuccessful some of us might be," says Francis "Skip" Downey, a retired executive who still lives in Elizabeth. Downey, as a teenager with Feeney, would sneak into the movie theaters in Asbury Park without paying for a ticket.

"We had such great times and we'll never forget them," says Downey.

What was extraordinary about the night in New York was not that Feeney, 76, once again demonstrated his affection for friends and family, but that old friends from Elizabeth -- retired cops, firefighters and parish priests and secretaries -- mixed so seamlessly with those more often associated with power and money, main topics of the book.

Like Kelly, the commissioner, who said he was there "just to express thanks to a man who has done so much for the Irish and Ireland." And Tom Moran, chairman and CEO of Mutual of America. Malachy McCourt, the playwright. Loretta Brennan-Glucksman, head of the American Ireland Fund -- which promotes peace in Northern Ireland -- and widow of one of the most famous players on Wall Street, Lew Glucksman. Niall O'Dowd, the publisher who helped broker peace in Northern Ireland.

Some live in both of Feeney's worlds. Hubie Brown, the former Knicks coach and NBA commentator, also was a boyhood friend. Or Caroleen Feeney, the movie actress who is Charlie's daughter.

Charlie -- he gained the nickname "Chuck" only after he left Elizabeth, so his old friends don't use it -- lived in both worlds. Making billions through, among other ventures, the Duty Free Shops. Using his money -- perhaps as much as $4 billion -- to underwrite peace in Northern Ireland and help build educational and health facilities in the United States and in war-ravaged Vietnam and South Africa.

But he still has something in him of the wandering kid from Elizabeth. He doesn't own a home, or a car. He often takes trains to visit his sisters in New Jersey. He spends much of his time visiting the people and places he helped -- or just dropping in on old friends -- but always flying economy class. He says he never stays more than three months in the same place.

After speeches in the glass and marble tower, Charlie -- in his signature blue blazer and khaki slacks, wearing his $15 watch with the plastic band -- spoke quietly. He said he just wanted to say: